March 12, 1891.J 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



147 



with their eyes balgiiig from the sockets, their great 

 horns striking together like the clashing of a thousand 

 sabei's, crowding against each other as if for safety, in a 

 mass so compact that we could have crossed over the 

 backs of the whole herd on our horses. Now and then 

 one of the multitude would stumble and disappear; a dog 

 hole or some slight inequality of the ground had snared 

 his feet, and the chances of his never rising again after 

 the herd had passed over Mm was as two to one. 



The situation shortly after midnight was one calculated 

 to appall the stoutest heart among us. The tempest then 

 had reached its climax, and I do not remember that I 

 have ever seen its equal even in the tropics: the flood 

 gates of the skies were thrown wide open, drenching us 

 with the waters of a deluge, peal after peal of thunder 

 immediately over head and apparently not fm-ther otT 

 than the top of a tall tree, smote upon our ears like the 

 crash of Avorlds; the sharp flashes of lightning followed 

 each other so rapidly that at times a constant sheet of 

 flame seemed to be playing all about us, illuminating the 

 landscape with the light of day; and its momentary 

 absence left us with a vision entirely destroyed. The 

 neck of the horse we rode was not visible; the open hand 

 held a foot from the face could not be seen. Concerted 

 action on the part of the herders became impossible. Our 

 voices drowned in the roar of the tempest no longer 

 reached the ears of the cattle, and deprived of this stay 

 the herd began to break into small bands, each taking a 

 different direction. This really was the crisis of the 

 stampede. If a band escaped unattended is loss was 

 almost a certainty ; therefore as soon as this occurred some 

 one of the herders made the detached bunch the object 

 of his special attention. 



"With one of these bands, numbering about 150, went 

 the writer. By the lightning's aid we scanned the ground 

 between us and the flying cattle, and if it looked toler- 

 ably safe iTrged om- horses into a gallop, trusting to an- 

 other flash to come in time to enable us to continue it 

 without a break. When this failed, we slowed down until 

 it did come. There was no expectation of turning them 

 again to the herd: our greatest desire was to be able to 

 locate them at daybreak, aud to do this we must keep 

 ourselves somewhere in their vicinity, for the rain would 

 obliterate every vestige of a trail. 



The storm waned with the night, the rain ceased and 

 and here and there the stars appeared, until with the first 

 faint blush of morn I found myself with my little band 

 in a small bottom where we all appeared to have stopped 

 from sheer inability to go any further. Where I was I 

 had no idea, only that I was probably several miles from 

 camp. My horse was trembling beneath me, his drooping 

 head and smoking, sunken flanks painfully attesting the 

 terrific strain of the night's work. It was my favorite 

 mount, for such we always reserved for the dreaded 

 stampede, sparing them when possible all other duty, and 

 his piteous condition excited my liveliest sympathy. It 

 was evident that it would be many days before he recov- 

 ered from the wear and tear of this single night. 



As the sun rose the panic entirely subsided, the cattle 

 became obedient; and leaving them in the bottom, I rode 

 to the highest point near me for . observation. About 

 two miles away I discovered one of the herders with a 

 small bunch of stock; and I lost no time in bringing the 

 two herds together. This left one of us at liberty to ride 

 in different direction, until familiar landmarks were dis- 

 covered by which to shape our course toward the camp. 

 The subaquaous condition of the prairie seriously im- 

 peded our progress. Ponds and pools confronted us in 

 every direction ; and the dry gulches of yesterday were 

 waist-deep with running water to-day. On our way we 

 passed five or six victims of the i)anic, two of which were 

 dead and the others lying helpless with broken limbs, 

 the bones projecting for inches beyond the flesh. These 

 looked up to us so beseechingly with their great liquid 

 eyes that the hardest heart could hardly have refused the 

 act of mercy ; and puttmg them out of their misery with 

 our revolvers we hurried on to camp, where we found that 

 a number of the men with a majority of the cattle had 

 arrived before us, and several had ah-eady been dis- 

 patched upon fresh horses to hunt up and aid those still out. 



It was noon before all the stragglers came in, and we 

 were able to ascertain the losses of that memorable and 

 disastrous night. Nearly 200 head were missing; rather 

 more than a score of these had been killed outright or 

 had their legs broken, which practically amounted to the 

 same thing: and the rest had escaped unseen, or at least 

 unattended at the breaking up of the herd and were 

 never recovered. Besides this there were quite a num- 

 ber whose horns had been broken off close to their heads; 

 they were continually moving about with forequarters 

 bathed in blood, apparently in too much pain to permit a 

 moment's rest; and the entii-e herd, wild-eyed and gaunt, 

 presented a picture of utter demoralization that afforded 

 us not even the shadow of a hope for the future. 



My observations during this journey enable me to cor- 

 rect a mistaken idea entertained by many at the present 

 day. It is, I believe, a quite common impression that the 

 great grassy plains of western Texas were until the begin- 

 ning of the skin-hunting era in '69 or '70 crowded with 

 buffalo at all seasons of the year. I have often heard 

 this asserted and have also occasionally seen articles in 

 the Forest and Stream where the writers made similar 

 statements. Such, however, was by no means the case, 

 for in this drive, covering over 1,600 miles of travel, every 

 rod of which was in a fine buffalo country, we neither 

 saw nor heard of one until we had crossed the Red Eiver 

 into the Indian Territory, where we saw a few old bulls, 

 never more than three or four together, and frequently 

 only one. These were stragglers.or had been driven from 

 the main herd, which was at that season in the Yellow- 

 stone country, where they invariably spent the summer. 

 What was known as the great Kansas herd, before civili- 

 zation had driven them further west, migrated north in 

 the spring and south in the fall yearly, and while it is 

 hardly exaggerating to estimate its number in millions; 

 it practically took all there was, the only exceptions being 

 a few in the Colorado parks and similar places, which never 

 seemed to migrate. Forked Deer. 

 Oakland, Cali fornia. 



The Hardships of Sport,— As a rule, says an Enghsh 

 writer, a sportsman may take great liberties with himself 

 without being much the worse. No man was ever harmed 

 by wet feet on a moor, though if he comes home and con- 

 templates them for an hour over a gunroom fire he may 

 be reminded of the indiscretion. A deer stalker has to 

 put up with great exposure and texaporary discomfort, 

 but he is rarely the worse for it, 



IN THE REGION ROUND NICATOWIS. 



XIX.— cooking. 



THE next day we had duck stew for dinner; partridge 

 also, I suppose; for, though small game was very 

 scarce we got two of each on our way up and down 

 Main Stream. But in these days the bill of fare was not 

 of prirne importance, and the" journal ceases to mention 

 it. Jot's best efforts were now expended in the prepara- 

 tion instead of in the provision of food. 



There are people who do not consider cooking a profes- 

 sion; but Jot had a higher idea of it. He was master of 

 half a dozen trades; but if he had a point of pride, I be- 

 lieve it was his cooking. He went about it most methodi- 

 cally. A given amount of hair combing and hand washing 

 was the initial step; then the food was prepared with 

 equal neatness and system; the kettles were put on, and 

 the cooking proceeded to the accompaniment of some 

 appropriate tune like "O think of the home over there." 

 No interruptions or difficulties ever seemed to interfere, 

 and fried, boiled, broiled or stewed, the food came to the 

 table neither underdone nor overdone. I think it was 

 science that accomplished this, for my own humble en- 

 deavors were always unsuccessful and / laid the failure 

 to lack of science; but Jot knew it all and could explain 

 every wherefore. When I tried to make a dish of the 

 cheerful beverage warranted to do no harm, it tasted of 

 the tannery rather than of the tea caddy; they told me 

 that it was smoked because I had not put the cover on 

 the kettle. Wlaat town-born cook would ever think of 

 her tea being smoked? I have done more things than 

 that which are set down as sins against Hygeia — let us 

 not talk of them. 



At home, economy consists in using every scrap of 

 food and the least possible fuel; in the woods, it means 

 the preparation of what you have in the least time and in 

 the simplest manner. At the last reduction, one becomes 

 a question of money and the other of dishes. In the 

 woods we call dishes of all sorts ''cooking tools." There 

 is a homely candor about the phrase which I admire; it 

 makes no attempt to raise these useful articles to the rank 

 of ornaments and unessentials; it does not seek to dis- 

 gtiise the fact that their utility is the sole excuse for their 

 existence: it expresses in the" most satisfactory way this 

 principle of economy and selection; for if any one word 

 contains the whole sum and substance of true economy 

 of time, labor and money, it is that word "tool." 



Many years and more experiments have reduced our 

 kit of "cooking tools" to such shape that it is neither heavy, 

 bulky, nor inconvenient. Excepting two or three odd 

 articles, the whole is packed in a heavy ten quart camp 

 kettle with straight sides and a pointed cover— three large 

 tin plates, two small ditto, two straight-sided tin basms 

 of three and four quarts' capacity, two camp kettles hold- 

 ing corresponding amounts (one kettle iron, the other of 

 tin for tea, both with covers and with ears riveted on to 

 prevent melting), four tin dippers with handles nesting 

 inside each other, three large spoons, three small ditto, 

 three knives and forks, and besides these, when con- 

 venient, pepper and salt shakers and the dish cloths and 

 wipers. It takes three days' practice to learn how to pack 

 that pail. When this is done, the cover is tied on to pre- 

 vent the loss of time or articles in case of a stumble or an 

 accident. In camp the large pail is used for a water pail 

 and the cover becomes a hand basin. 



A few articles are not mcluded with the rest of the kit. 

 The frying pan is always tied up in a piece of burlaps 

 kept for the purpose, so that it goes very well, only when 

 swung on the end of the setting pole it acts like an insane 

 pendulum— for, of course, it is a long-handled frying pan, 

 as all which are used in the woods must be. In the old- 

 time lumber camps, before stoves were used, 4ft. was 

 the regulation length of the frying pan handle, and a 

 boy was often employed to tend it. Far more useful than 

 the frying pan is a little ten or fifteen-cent bread toaster, 

 of the sort which fashion at one time allowed to appear 

 on parlor tables as a photograph holder when decorously 

 appareled in a bow of orange ribbon. It is perfectly fiat, 

 weighs but a few ounces, is easily cleaned, and is a great 

 advance on the primitive sharpened stick for broiling fish, 

 fowl, or venison. A folding baker is also a great con- 

 venience. Ours is made in exactly the shape of the old- 

 fashioned baker which was formerly used in cooking 

 before open fires. After the baking pan is removed it can 

 be folded into a flat sheet of tin, the sides lapping in, the 

 narrow back falling so that the long legs on its lower edge 

 come flat against the lower reflecting tin, and the upper 

 reflector dropping over all. The baker serves not only for 

 bread but also for baking fish and meat. The reflection 

 from the two sloping sides, above and beneath, upon the 

 baking sheet cooks quickly and evenly, and when the 

 surfaces have become dull' a little scouring quickly re- 

 stores the brightness and good cooking qualities. 



With these simple "tools" Jot could prepare a dinner 

 fit for a king, and never was monarch more liberal of his 

 praises to his cooks than we to ours, as Jot himself will 

 testify. 



XX. — CLEAR W^ATER AND WOODS HOSPITALITY. 



The peculiar feature of Pistol Green is the soft green 

 sward and white clover which cover it. Grass is a rarity in 

 the woods; the weeds come early, almost before the lum- 

 berman, but only the lapse of many years and the fre- 

 quent presence of man will make these civilized grasses 

 grow in the wilderness. Pistol Green from time imme- 

 morial has been a favorite ground for camping, and this 

 is attested by its deserving the name of Green, which, in 

 our State, is very uncommon. Another sign was a part of 

 the thigh bone of some large animal, which we dug up 

 from several inches beneath our camp floor. Moose, ox, 

 horse?— we asked which it was, and all judged it to be 

 moose; for it had been cracked Indian-fashion to obtain 

 the marrow. It is a long time since there were any moose 

 in this region, except as infrequent sti-agglers. 



From the Green several paths diverge; most are driv- 

 ers' paths used only in the spring; the central one is the 

 carry to Pistol Lake— two miles if we go all the way by 

 land, but on high water like that of this yeai-, it is not 

 necessary to carry beyond the head of the roughest water. 



I asked why Pistol Stream got its name, and was told 

 that it was because "it went just as if it had been shot 

 out of a little gun." An entire stranger woidd know it at 

 once from this description. It is what woodsmen call 

 "smart water" with a good strong "spring" in it. (Has it 

 never impressed any one unused to our Maine woods and 

 ways that we have a very peculiar feeling toward running 

 water, calling it "good," "bad," "mean," "wicked look- 

 ing" and so forth with a seriousness wbioh go far exceeds 



any figurative or rhetorical intention that it seems to im- 

 pute personality and moral responsibility to the element? 

 There is something Greek in this : so came the gods about.) 



Pistol is beautiful water, clear enough and beautiful 

 enough to make dear old Garvin Douglass, could he but 

 have seen it, as I wish he might have, write an epilogue to 

 every book in the J3neid in its especial praise, telling us 

 more about 



"The sylyer scalyt fypchis on tlie greit. 

 Ourthwort cleir stremys sprynkland for the heyt." 



Abol has richer colors, more of the crystalline irides- 

 cence of the iceberg, as if it held an imprisoned rainbow, 

 more of the trajislucent emeraldine tints of cold caverns 

 brought with it from its birth out of the side of old 

 Katahdin, more absolute purity; but Abol is not navi- 

 gable. And Millinockett hasjthe spring and the impetu- 

 osity, but without the same pellucidness. The charm of 

 Pistol is that it is itself. We poled up it in the clear, 

 cool air of the morning, as much delighted as if it were 

 a fresh creation made for us alone. The stream came 

 down like a highway through the trees: ferns on the 

 shores, waving half- vines, which we call "buck bean," in 

 the water, and the tall stalks of the cardinal flowers, now 

 brown with ripeness that erewhile had lighted up the 

 banks with then- flames: clean gravel in the shallows 

 where the water was clearest, a rock-ribbed channel where 

 it flowed faster. Great granite boulders lay along the 

 stream , worn concavely to the height of several feet by logs 

 and spring freshets, and rocks in the bed of the stream 

 made it give continual little hops and leaps to get over or 

 around them, as it ran from one side to the other along 

 its devious course, like a Naiad pursued by the great god 

 Pan. 



The first Pistol is a beautiful, rounded lake, apparently 

 about two miles long, with high Avooded shoi-es, partly 

 pineland and partly hardwood, rising highest on the side 

 toward Nicatowis. The edges, especially near the outlet, 

 are set with great granites both above 'and beneath the 

 water, which in a heavy sea would make canoeing 

 difficult. 



As we knew that Alonzo Spearen, of Passadumkeag 

 (the Lonz so often referred to), and his partner, Sanford 

 Hodgkins, of Burlington, had a camp here, we hunted it 

 up. Lonz was not at home and his partner we did not 

 known personally, but, woods fashion, nothing would 

 satisfy him unless we promised to come back to dinner. 

 There is a heartiness and cordiality about such a welcome 

 that entirely masters me. This man did not consider the 

 difficulty of getting supplies in to the camp, hauling, 

 boating, lugging aud poling them so many miles, it did 

 not matter that he did not know us, we were friends and 

 welcome to half of the last biscuit if it came to that. And 

 that is the kind of cordiality to be found everywhere 

 through the woods unless it has been chilled by unres- 

 ponsiveness of those who, ignorant of our native customs, 

 have failed to return the welcome extended or, as some 

 unfortunately have done, have taken unfair advantage 

 of hospitalities offered them. 



Less is expected of strangers now than formerly; but 

 it used to be a common complaint among hunters, ex- 

 plorers and others that the elite of society who came here 

 "hadn't no manners; they didn't know enough to invite a 

 man to eat with them." As long ago as Thoreau's day 

 Joe Polls felt called on to reprove him for his discourtesy 

 in not visiting old blind Thurlotte in his hut on Mud 

 Pond Carry, for this is the true significance of the inci- 

 dent which Thoreau himself relates. Much experience 

 has caused the gradual remission of civilities to strangers 

 unless by speech and action they prove themselves of 

 native stock; but thirty years ago the same w^ere extended 

 to all, and no one asked the name of his guest unless he 

 chose to give it. 



After promising to return to dinner, we set out for 

 Spring Lake, wliich lies between the inlet to Pistol and 

 the Main Stream, outletting into the latter. It can be 

 reached either by a short carry or a long one. We went 

 by the latter, going up the sluggish inlet, where we saw 

 signs of otter, until we got to tlie foot of the quick water, 

 where a horseback comes down. The first part of the 

 carry lies along this horseback through an open growth 

 of Norway pines, AVe saw a number of bear-biting trees 

 along this ridge and several bear traps adapted to all 

 grades of m-sine stupidity— none of Hodgkin's and Spear- 

 en's w^ork, however, who know how to set a trap. 

 The rest of the way is wet and boggy underfoot, though 

 not an open bog. 



Spring Lake is a jewel, the perfection of regular shape, 

 clear water and shining white bottom — a little gem, with 

 a cincture of prismatic colors, from the autumn-changed 

 leaves upon the shore, playing about its margin in reflec- 

 tions of red, green and yellow, like the lambent flames of 

 a noble opal. The shores are of broken granite, and the 

 bottom being of the same, finely crushed, shows better 

 than sand would the clearness and sparkle of the water, 

 which welling up from springs beneath, fills this granite 

 bowl with liquor brighter than any wine. It may not 

 look on all days as it looked on this; but never on any 

 day did I see so much beautiful water as here about 

 Pistol; it was an experience not to be communicated by 

 words. 



There are large trout in Spring Lake. A man whom 

 we met said he caught one the day before that measured 

 19in. in length and Sin. in depth. We were told that in 

 Pistol they got white perch measuring 15in. 



When we got back to the camp Long had arrived with 

 the gentlemen who were staying there. We were even 

 more warmly welcomed than at first. Nothing was too 

 good for us. The "wicket" was ours while we stayed, 

 e verybody in it was at our service. It was like having a 

 crowd of powerful genii spring up at the rubbing of the 

 ring or of the lamp to do our bidding. They prepared us 

 a dinner of the best the land afforded, fully equal to Jot's 

 best efforts. Tliey showed us the camp, and offered us 

 anything they had. We did want some salt and had 

 brought a little box to get it in; but when we made known 

 om- want, our entertainers would not think of giving any 

 one so little and packed up a large baking powder canis- 

 ter, as much as we should have used in a month, bidding 

 us not to think of taking less, for salt was cheap— cheap 

 after it had been brought all that distance!— and we had 

 much ado to escaj)e carrying off ten times what we 

 wanted. We were m-ged to stay over night, pressed to 

 remain, and our refusal was barely accepted; indeed, it 

 was a temptation when we thought of the stories that 

 would be told about the fire that evening— Jot with down- 

 right earnestness, Lon^ with irresistible drollery, Hodg- 

 kins with quiet gravity ecjually entertaining, Father 



